


are we all such fragile things?

by iwasfollowingyou



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Enjoy!, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Fights, Gun Violence, M/M, Near Death Experiences, and they deserve everything good in the world, but yeah this is probably gonna hurt, donna and sam are best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 02:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasfollowingyou/pseuds/iwasfollowingyou
Summary: "in the shadow of two gunmen" from sam's point of view, plus some extra angst just for fun





	are we all such fragile things?

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up over this.”

“I don’t understand why you’re still talking to your ex.”

“She’s not—” Sam shook his head. “She’s not my ex, Josh. She’s my _friend_.”

“A friend that you slept with!”

“So? Why does that even matter? Even if we had dated, why would it matter?”

“So… it just does.” Josh ran a hand through his hair. His unbuttoned sleeves were falling from where he had pushed them up to his elbows. Sam couldn’t read the expression on his face. Josh kept looking at him, then looking away again, never pausing his movements for long enough that Sam could figure out what was going through his head. “It just bothers me, alright?”

Sam held up his hands, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Why? You’ve never had an issue with this before.”

“It just does!”

“I don’t get it,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. “We’re adults, Josh. Why are you getting so worked up about this? It’s not like anything is happening between us. We just talk. We’re friends.”

“You slept with her,” Josh muttered again.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Once. A year and a half ago. What’s the problem with talking to her?” He shook his head. “I don’t care about you talking to your exes.”

Josh laughed humorlessly. “I don’t have any exes! At least not as many as you do.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam couldn’t keep his voice from getting louder now, his words quickly becoming laced with anger. He was standing stiffly, muscles tensed, too far away from Josh. It took everything in him not to step closer.

“Nothing.” Josh looked away.

“Clearly it’s not nothing. Out with it, come on. What are you trying to say?” He couldn’t stop himself from pushing. He needed Josh to say whatever it was he meant, because Sam wasn’t going to be able to move on unless he knew for sure.

Josh shook his head and lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “You’ve gone out with a lot of people. I haven’t. That’s it.”

“So what? Why does that have anything to do with this?” Sam’s fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t know! It doesn’t!”

“Then why’d you even bring it up?”

“I don’t know.”

Sam took a deep breath in and out through his nose, clenching his jaw. Other people had tried coming after him like this before, saying he was some kind of slut or somehow _easy_ because he was bisexual, because he had a lot of one-night stands and short relationships, especially in college. Because he never managed to settle down, because he left behind him a trail of failed relationship after failed relationship. Until he met Josh, and everything had fallen into place. Everyone else he could ignore. He didn’t give a shit what they thought about him. But he cared about what Josh thought. 

They had never talked about it this way before. They rarely discussed their past relationships. Josh had never before said anything about Sam’s past relationships; Sam had always thought it was a non-issue. He didn’t care about the people Josh had been with before. All that mattered to him was that they were together now. He had thought that Josh had viewed it the same way. Clearly, he had misunderstood something along the way.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time they had an actual fight. It had to have been ages ago. They didn’t fight like this; it wasn’t how they worked. They talked to each other. Sam had spent too long slowly breaking down Josh’s walls to let them fight over petty things. He couldn’t understand why Josh was getting so upset about the situation.

Every bit of common sense he had was screaming at him not to push, to calm down and speak gently and stop everything before it escalated further.

“What kind of person do you think I am?” he asked quietly, voice cold as he looked Josh in the eyes. Josh swallowed visibly, gaze flicking back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, Sam.” He was backing down now, holding out an olive branch. Sam shook his head, too worked up now to let it go.

“Really? Why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?”

“I just mean you’ve been with more people than I have. That’s it, okay?”

“And because I’m still friends with a couple of them, that makes me a worse person than you are?” Sam snapped. “What, you’re better than me because you weren’t a slut who went around sleeping with everyone in college? Because you’ve only ever been in three steady relationships?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The air was heavy around them. There was only maybe ten feet of space between them, but Josh was miles away. Sam was getting hot, his head spinning, his thoughts getting foggy and tumbling around inside his brain. His fingernails dug into his palms, and he knew he was only a moment away from managing to draw blood. His mouth tasted metallic and strange. Josh wasn’t speaking, but Sam didn’t want him to. He had said enough. Sam could see three years’ worth of work, soft touches and rushed conversations and coaxing Josh into letting down his defenses, going down the drain.

Josh’s expression was somewhere between hurt and angry, his mouth hanging slightly open. He had retreated in on himself; Sam could practically see him building up his walls again. The space between them was growing wider and wider. Sam swallowed the lump that came to his throat and tried to force his heartbeat to slow down.

“I don’t think that about you, but hey, if the shoe fits,” Josh spat, gaze turning cold and expression twisting into something Sam hadn’t seen since Josh had lost his temper in a screaming match with a conservative priest.

The fight left Sam in one breath, and he slumped, hands falling limply to his sides. He stared at Josh, feeling like he had just taken a knife and twisted it in his chest, then left it there and kicked him for good measure.

“I didn’t—” Josh was stammering now, and he stepped towards Sam.

Sam took a step backwards. “You know, sometimes you really make me hate you,” he said quietly. Josh tried to speak again, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words. Sam shook his head and turned his back on Josh. “Get out.”

“Sam…”

“Get the fuck out, Josh. Now. Get _out_.”

He heard Josh’s footsteps across the floor. The front door opened and closed, and Sam was left alone in his apartment, the room feeling a little colder and a lot emptier than before.

————————

The night couldn’t have gone better. The crowd had loved the President (as was to be expected), the pilot had been found, and Toby’s brother was safe. Sam should have been in high spirits with the rest of the staff, ready to go back to the White House and have a few bottles of wine in celebration of their success. But something was still tugging at the back of his mind, causing fake smiles and forced laughter as CJ joked with him. It seemed like no one else noticed the slight pain behind his expression or the way his shoulders were more tensed than usual. He could sense Josh’s presence and occasionally caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. It hurt. He refused to let it show, but it hurt.

Josh had tried to speak to him, once, but Sam had turned away to continue his conversation with Toby, causing Josh to slump his shoulders defeatedly and leave them alone. Toby, to Sam’s great relief, didn’t comment on it. Though it made him difficult to work with on occasion, every once in a while, Sam was glad for Toby’s lack of interest in any and all personal matters. Josh didn’t come within fifteen feet of Sam for the rest of the night. Sam’s stomach clenched every time he saw Josh across the room. It took everything he had not to pull Josh off to the side somewhere and demand an apology, because he wanted so, _so_ badly to kiss him again, to make everything go back to normal. He wanted to hold his hand and be able to slip away with him later on, wine drunk and giggling like little kids at the prospect of getting caught by one of the staff. But he straightened his spine and soldiered on.

“I thought he wasn’t working the rope line?” Sam asked CJ as they exited the building, turning his head toward her so as not to be blinded by the flash of cameras. The noise of the crowd was a dull roar in his ears, all of the yelling blending into one uniform sound.

“You know he can’t resist it,” she replied. “I told them to make sure he doesn’t answer too many questions. He’s spent the last three hours doing that, he’s gotta be tired.”

“I’m about to fall asleep on my feet, so I can’t imagine how exhausted he must be.” CJ smiled at him and patted his shoulder. He returned the smile and looked around. The crowd was insane. He appreciated that people were this passionate about their support for the President, but it did stress him out a little to be surrounded on both sides by hundreds of people, even if there were barriers in the way.

The Secret Service agents were beginning to usher people into cars. Zoey was saying something to Gina, who was trying to hurry her into a vehicle. Zoey looked slightly annoyed at the urgency. Sam followed Gina’s gaze into the crowd but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged and kept moving with CJ. Their car was a few back from Zoey’s; it hadn’t quite pulled all the way up to the curb yet. They stood by to wait for it.

“ _ **GUN!**_ ”

A noise like firecrackers began echoing around them, the sound quickly joined by screaming. Someone collided with Sam’s back, and he grabbed CJ, pushing her to the ground and falling with her. The rough pavement scraped against his hands and face, but he barely registered the pain. Secret Service agents were yelling above them, police sirens shrieking, the people behind the barriers shouting amidst the chaos of more and more bullets being fired. Sam covered his ears with his hands, but it did little to muffle the sounds.

He felt tears burning in his eyes and blindly reached out for CJ, finding her hand and gripping tightly.

It must have only lasted a couple of minutes at the most, but he would have sworn he had been lying on the ground with guns going off for an hour when the shooting finally subsided, and the scene was overtaken with sirens and flashing lights. Sam forced himself to his feet, stumbling a bit, then grabbed CJ’s arm. She looked at him, pure terror in her eyes, face white as a sheet.

“Leo,” Sam said quickly, whipping his head around to look for the Chief of Staff. There was no sign of Bartlet or Zoey; they must have been shoved into the cars the second Gina had yelled. The agents would have made sure they were safe first.

Sam spotted Leo over the heads of a few people and sprinted towards him, disregarding any shame to hug him tightly.

“Where’s Toby?” Leo asked as Sam broke away.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” His head was fuzzy, the noise of sirens dulled, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He felt like he was going to pass out. He grabbed Leo’s arm for support. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. _Josh_.

“Mr. McGarry!” An agent grabbed Leo’s shoulder. “Sir, we need to get you out of here.”

“I need to—”

“We need to move _now_.”

Leo was dragged away, and Sam stumbled over the uneven sidewalk as he was left without support. He looked around, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus on anything. The entire scene was just one big blur, faces and voices blending into one another. Sam felt someone bump against his arm as they ran past.

“Over there!” CJ yelled, gesturing, and Sam snapped back to attention. Toby was standing near one of the fences, behind a short wall. Sam sprinted towards him and registered how pale he looked.

“Doctor! I need a — I need a doctor!”

There was someone on the ground in front of him. Sam almost tripped over himself as he slowed down.

Josh looked up at him, face pure white. He was holding both hands over his stomach. His shirt was covered with blood. It was running over his hands, staining them red. He opened his mouth and made a strangled noise, then fell over onto his side. Sam’s legs gave out and he almost collapsed onto the ground. He tried to take a step towards Josh, but suddenly there was a sea of people between them and Josh was being loaded onto a stretcher and EMTs were yelling out phrases and instructions Sam couldn’t comprehend. They lifted Josh and rushed him into an ambulance, and then they were gone.

Sam barely noticed what was happening as he sank to the ground until his knees hit the concrete and his shoulders slumped. There were bloodstains on the ground. Josh’s blood. His stomach turned over and he swallowed down the dinner that was threatening to reappear. His heart was racing; he couldn’t get any air into his lungs. His vision was going blurry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scarlet puddle on the sidewalk.

Someone’s hand was on his shoulder, then another on his other arm. They dragged him to his feet, and he struggled to find his footing. He leaned heavily into them, gaze still focused on the place Josh had just been, the pattern of the blood searing into his mind.

“Sam.” It was Toby’s voice in his ear, still gruff and familiar but _scared_. Sam tried to respond but couldn’t make his mouth cooperate. “Sam, they’re taking him to the hospital. Come on.”

_Josh._

“Josh,” Sam choked out. His stomach turned over again, and he leaned away from Toby to throw up. He bent over and coughed, hands on his knees. Toby tightened his grip on Sam’s arm and waited for him to straighten back up. Sam’s vision went blurry again, and he fell against Toby. A mix of voices was calling his name, and he shook his head. “Josh.”

“Sam, we got to go,” Toby’s voice said close to his ear, and Sam nodded slowly, eyes still trained on the ground.

He let himself be guided into a car and all but crumpled into the backseat. He stared down at his hands. They were red, torn up from hitting the pavement, but not bleeding. He assumed his stinging cheek was the same. His mouth tasted terrible. Sirens still surrounded them. Blue and red lights flashed, illuminating the interior of the car. Toby was sitting next to him, leg bouncing up and down. Sam tried to focus on the rhythm, but it was too fast, and his breath quickened. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the car. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His mind kept flashing the image of Josh slumped against the wall. How much blood had there been? Had Josh been conscious? Had he said anything? Sam couldn’t remember.

He covered his mouth with his hand as a sob escaped his throat. He vaguely registered Toby’s hand reaching towards him and settling on his arm.

The hospital was too bright and chaotic and loud. Sam saw a crowd of nurses pushing a stretcher, and he recognized Josh’s hair at the front of it. He stumbled as he rounded the corner, shoes slipping on the clean floors.

_Josh._

“Josh!” he yelled. “Josh, I’m here!” He sprinted towards them, struggling to get to Josh. Sam slowed as he caught up, but still wasn’t close enough to Josh. He managed to hold himself back from throwing himself into the group to reach Josh, to hold his hand or brush his hair back or kiss him or _anything_.

Josh was mumbling something, but his voice was muffled. The movement of the stretcher had slowed, and they were ripping Josh’s shirt open now, and there was so much fucking blood that Sam had no idea how Josh was managing to stay conscious. Sam shoved his way past the nurses to get to Josh, almost falling over him. Sam tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn to Josh’s chest, to the shirt stained red, and he almost puked again.

“Josh,” he whispered. “Josh, I’m here.”

“Senator…” Josh muttered. His eyes met Sam’s, and Sam could see the fear and confusion behind them. His face was so pale that he looked halfway dead already. Sam choked back a sob. The doctors and nurses kept saying things Sam didn’t understand.

It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. It was all a nightmare, and Sam tried to wake himself up. It couldn’t be happening.

Sam heard a commotion from behind them, could distantly make out Leo’s voice. _Leo._ Leo was okay. Leo was there. There wasn’t enough time to be relieved before Sam’s heart was gripped with fear again. Josh was struggling against the doctor’s hands, arms thrashing. Sam wanting to hold him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

“I shouldn’t be at this meeting!” Josh said. His voice sounded strangled coming out of his throat. “I need to get to New Hampshire.”

_New Hampshire._

Sam leaned in closer, arm brushing against Josh’s and sending sparks across his body. Josh looked at him, just briefly, and Sam’s stomach turned over again. He didn’t know if Josh could hear him, if he could process what Sam was saying. Josh was delirious, on the edge of consciousness, his blood soaking all of the fabric touching him and spreading to the stretcher underneath him. Sam didn’t know if Josh even realized what was happening, if Josh would even recognize his voice.

“You went to New Hampshire. We both did. You came and got me.”

“On my count!” someone was commanding. “One! Two! Three!”

They lifted Josh onto another bed and started pushing him away again. Sam tripped over himself as he tried to follow. They disappeared through a set of double doors, and a man in blue scrubs stuck an arm out to catch Sam. He slumped against the pressure and watched helplessly as the doors swung shut. The man gently slipped an arm around his shoulders and led him into a room full of chairs. Sam sunk into a seat in the corner and dropped his head into his hands. Something wet touched his palms, and he realized he was crying.

“Josh,” he choked out.

New Hampshire. Josh had been mumbling about New Hampshire.

His mind flashed back to New York, almost half a decade ago, Josh showing up to his office with no warning, unexpected but exactly what Sam had needed. He was getting bored at Gage Whitney, bored with his life and the direction it was heading. He hadn’t known if he really wanted to be a partner, or if he really wanted to marry Lisa, or if he had chosen the right path for himself. Then Josh had come flying back into his life like a hurricane, throwing everything into disarray. When he had returned to New York a few days later, coming back to the firm through a rainstorm and showing up halfway through one of the most important meetings of Sam’s career, soaking wet and ridiculous looking in the middle of the offices but more excited than Sam had seen him since they had met, Sam had felt his heart leap in a way it hadn’t since the summer he met Josh. Sam had never been more confident in any decision than he was in the choice to leave that meeting and follow Josh to New Hampshire. He left everything behind because Josh asked him to. And it was the best damn decision he had ever made.

_We both did. You came and got me._

“Josh,” he breathed, like a prayer, for no one else’s ears but his own.

CJ sat down next to him and rubbed his back. He was still breathing wrong, too loud and short and panicked, but he couldn’t make himself calm down enough to get a full breath. It was like there was a python wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing tighter and tighter each time he inhaled. He heard CJ’s distant voice saying something about a nurse. A moment later, a woman was standing in front of him holding a cup of water in one hand and a small white pill in the other. He took them and swallowed the pill, chasing it with a gulp of water. He finished off the cup within a few seconds and handed it back to the nurse.

Whatever the medication had been started working a soon after. He slowly regained control of his breathing, matching it in time with CJ’s comforting hand on his back. Up and down, in and out. He undid his tie, yanking at it until it came undone and stopped choking him. Sitting up, he pulled his jacket off and let it fall on the floor in front of him. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be able to wear it again, so wrinkles and stains didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall until he had brought his breathing back to normal. 

“Who else got hit?” he finally managed to ask hoarsely, looking up at Toby.

“The President,” Toby said solemnly. “He’s in surgery now. They didn’t realize until he was already in the car.”

The President of the United States had been shot. If there had been anything left in his stomach, it would have ended up on the floor. He wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Bartlet. _Josh._

“Anyone else?”

“Not that we know of.”

Sam nodded. “How — what — is Josh—”

“He’s in critical condition,” CJ said quietly. Sam gulped and closed his eyes again, working on breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose. She rubbed his back comfortingly, but it did little to help. “The nurse that was in here earlier told us. They have him in surgery, but it could be twelve to fourteen hours. It’s bad, Sam.”

 _Bad._ It had to be the understatement of the century. The blood… he shook his head. There had been so much blood. Josh’s blood on the sidewalk, on his shirt, covering the hands that held the bullet wound on his chest. _Bad._ That’s what doctors said when they didn’t know if someone was going to make it or not.

“Where’s — where’s Donna?”

“On her way here. She doesn’t know yet.” He took another deep breath. He had to pull it together for Donna.

She burst into the room a few minutes later, mouth already moving a mile a minute. Sam looked up at her. She seemed to notice the mood in the room and looked around, eyes searching desperately.

“Where’s Josh?” she asked finally.

There was a beat of silence. Sam, CJ, and Toby all looked at one another, unsure of who should speak up. After a second, Donna’s panicked expression only getting worse, Toby cleared his throat.

“He got hit,” he told her. “Him and the President.” Donna’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, eyes immediately brimming with tears. She collapsed into the chair across from Sam, and he reached an arm across the gap. She took his hand, and he could feel her trembling slightly.

Sam had always liked Donna. She was quirky and smart and fun, and he got along better with her than anyone else in the west wing, save for Josh. Though he had once felt a twinge of jealousy about her relationship with Josh, any worry he had about her having feelings for Josh had been wiped away the second they had admitted their relationship to her, and she had started crying ( _“Happy tears, I promise, they’re happy tears. I love you guys”_ ). Sam and Donna were alike in many ways, one of which being how they felt about Josh. He was a foundation in both of their lives, and they often bonded over different ways to deal with him and — though they’d never tell him — over how much they genuinely loved him. 

No words were exchanged between them; each knew that they were feeling identical pangs in their chests. The group sat in silence, pretending not to be listening attentively to the newscast playing a room over. Sam could hear snippets of the reporters talking, just the same phrases over and over again. _Shots fired… unknown injuries… FBI searching for suspects… suspected act of terrorism…_ His hands were shaking, and he squeezed Donna’s more tightly. Toby sat in the opposite corner, muttering prayers under his breath.

Sam had never thought of himself as a religious person. He had gone to church a few times in his life, had attended temple with Toby once, but he didn’t consider himself an active believer. It had never really come up in his life. Everything he knew about God and prayer told him that you weren’t supposed to talk to him just in times of crisis, but he didn’t know what else to do, so he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

_I know I’ve never really talked to you, and I don’t know if I’m talking to anyone right now or I’m just a crazy person. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I don’t have any prayers memorized. I’m not generally a godly person, but I need something right now. Anything you can do to make this better… That’s my best friend in there. I know you’re not supposed to approve of us, but I don’t care. I love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t know what I would do without him. I don’t think I can keep going without him. So, if there’s anyone up there, please, just make sure he gets through this. I need him._

He didn’t dare even think of the word _death_. It felt wrong. They were in a hospital, surrounded by it, breathing it in. People all around them, in the floors above them and in the operating rooms, were walking the thin line between living and not. But not Josh. It couldn’t be Josh. These things didn’t happen to them. Josh was supposed to be invincible. They were supposed to be invincible. They were supposed to grow old together, get married and have kids and retire and spend the rest of their lives with each other. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, with one terrifyingly quick gunshot and a red stain on the concrete. It wasn’t supposed to end with Josh thinking Sam hated him. Sam silently cursed himself, fingernails digging into his palms.

He couldn’t lose Josh. He didn’t know who he was without Josh — without Josh, he was half convinced there would be no Sam, either.

Warm tears were falling down his cheeks again. Sam wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt. Donna got up and whispered something to CJ, who nodded and vacated her seat. Donna took her place and leaned into Sam. He managed a tiny smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him as much as possible with the armrest of the chair in the way. She rested her head on his shoulder and they stayed like that, listening to each other breathe.

Sam didn’t think he fell asleep. It definitely didn’t feel like he had gotten any rest, but the clock on the wall seemed to be changing whenever he blinked. Time felt like it was moving in fast forward and slow motion at the same time. A couple different nurses came in and out every once in a while, but they never had anything new. It was just constant reassurance that they were doing all they can to help Josh, and occasional updates on how much longer the surgery should be. They still couldn’t be sure that Josh was going to make it. Sam didn’t want to know until they were sure. All he wanted was for someone to tell him that Josh was going to be okay. He wanted for someone to wake him up, to pull him out of this nightmare. He wanted Josh.

At some point CJ pushed a Styrofoam cup of coffee into Sam’s hand. He took a sip and almost gagged but drank it anyway. He needed to stay awake. He needed to be there for Josh.

Donna was asleep on his shoulder, hair falling over her face. Sam tucked it behind her ear and sat back, trying to make sure she was comfortable. CJ, Toby, and Leo were muttering quietly to each other. Sam didn’t have the energy to care about what they were discussing. He knew people would be asking questions; they always did. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He needed to see Josh. _Josh._ He looked at the clock again. The last time a nurse had come in, she said it would be at least six more hours. That had been half an hour ago.

“Sam,” Leo said. He looked back towards him. “The President is out of surgery and stable. He’s gonna be fine.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank God.” They were halfway there.

Leo left the room, presumably to go see Bartlet. Sam picked at the cup in his hands, tearing off bits of Styrofoam and dropping them in until it was half-full of pieces. He looked at the clock again. He wished there was anything he could do besides just sit there and wait.

The weight of Donna’s head left his shoulder, and he turned to look at her.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Any news?” She wiped the corner of her mouth where she had been drooling a bit. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying. Sam wished he could do more to comfort her. He squeezed her shoulders gently, hoping the message got through.

“The President is out of surgery. Leo went to see him.” Donna let out a long breath, relief washing over her face. “Josh is still under.”

Donna nodded, expression dropping, but she pulled herself together quickly and sat up straighter. “But the President is okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “He’s going to be okay.”

“If he can do it, so can Josh.”

Sam smiled slightly at that. He nodded. “He can.”

She cleared her throat quietly. “Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

“What happened between you and Josh?”

His chest ached as he thought back to their fight. Josh’s expression when Sam got angry, really got angry, for the first time since they had been together. Josh’s sharp tone as he snapped _If the shoe fits._ Josh’s stammering apology immediately afterwards. The silence after Josh left the apartment. The bags under Josh’s eyes the next day, so dark it looked like he had been punched in the face. Sam’s bed, too big and cold and empty without Josh in it.

“You noticed?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his tone level, but his voice broke anyway.

“It was kind of hard to miss. He’s been acting extra mopey for the past three days, and he never once left his office to go visit you.”

“We, uh, had a fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I — I kicked him out of my apartment.” There was no judgment in her eyes, just confusion and maybe a little pity. Sam swallowed hard, feeling his eyes begin to sting again. “I haven’t spoken to him since, and…” _Fuck._ “The last thing that I said to him was that I hated him.”

“Oh, Sam.”

He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “Donna, what if he — what if he… and the last thing he heard from me was that I hate him? I don’t. I don’t hate him. I love him so goddamn much it hurts.”

“You can’t think like that. And even if…” She trailed off and shook her head. “He knows how much you love him, Sam. I promise. He knows.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice breaking.

“I am, too.” She wrapped an arm around him. “But we can’t think like that, okay? We have to stay positive. It doesn’t do us any good to think of the worst-case scenario. Plus, he’d hate us if he knew we were crying over him.”

“Actually, I think he would love the attention.” Sam cracked a smile. “He’d just say we were being dramatic.”

He didn’t know when Donna became such a strong person. He suspected she always had been, but this was a whole new level that he had never seen from her before. It felt like his world had been flipped upside down, and everything was _wrong_ , but just her presence was enough that he managed to ground himself in reality. He couldn’t let his mind wander, couldn’t think about the “what if”s.

“Donna?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

She smiled softly. “I love you too, Sam.”

He leaned his head against hers, taking a minute to breathe.

“You know he loves you, right?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It depends on the day.”

Donna shook her head. “No, Sam, he loves you. He _adores_ you. I’ve never seen Josh care about anyone as much as he cares about you. I could tell from the moment I met you that you were special to him. He doesn’t show it all the time. I know how he is. But I swear. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.”

He wanted to cry again, but whether from happiness or fear he didn’t know. His chest still ached. “It’s the same for you. He loves you like you’re his little sister. He’d go through hell and back for you.” She squeezed her arm tighter around him, and he returned the pressure.

Josh was incredibly lucky to have someone like Donna in his life. She had pretty much scammed her way into the campaign, sure, but it just proved how clever and hardworking she was. She genuinely cared about people — she wanted to use the government for forces of good as often as possible. She believed that helping people should be the basis of all the work they did. She reminded Sam of himself in that way. Sometimes, especially in the beginning, Sam wondered why she put up with Josh, his daily bullshit and grumpy moods and cocky attitude, but he understood, because he had gone through the same thing. 

Once Josh Lyman had you in his grasp, there was no getting out even if you wanted to. Josh roped you in and tugged you close, tied a knot around your heart and held on tightly to the other end.

“He’s going to be okay,” Donna murmured, and she sounded so sure of herself that Sam believed it. 

They were going to get through this. If Bartlet could do it, Josh could, too. They couldn’t let these people win. Sam wouldn’t let them take away his Josh. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction of hurting them. Sam got the urge to go out and find every last bastard who had contributed to this and take them out one by one with his own hands. He clenched his fists, not so tightly this time, imagining punching one of the assholes in the face. Donna gently took his hand and squeezed. Sam took a deep breath and nodded, lightly kissing her temple.

They were quiet after that. Sam could still hear the television in the next room. He hated it. He didn’t want to hear what other people were saying about the attack. He didn’t want to think about the outside world just then. He wanted to stay in this little bubble with Donna, because they understood exactly what the other was feeling. They both just knew — Josh was something else. He wasn’t easy to love, but Sam wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. He was convinced that he and Donna were the only two people in the world, besides Leo, who really understood Joshua Lyman, who got the way Josh operated and thought and expressed his emotions. Donna was just as much Josh’s family as Leo was. Sam had never known people so close without being related by blood. They gave Josh the love he deserved but refused to accept. Josh deserved them.

CJ and Leo returned a little while later. They told Donna and Sam that the President was in good condition, and he was even up and talking. A little bit of the terror left Sam’s chest, but his mind was still flooded with thoughts of Josh. He couldn’t get rid of the image of Josh slumped against the wall, looking half dead. The pattern of blood on the pavement was seared permanently into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut. Josh was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

“Sam, have you slept?” Leo asked, surprisingly gentle.

“I don’t know. I think I drifted off for a little while.”

“You need to get some rest.”

He shook his head. “Not until I know Josh is okay.”

CJ sighed. “Sam…”

“I said no. Not now.”

“Then let’s take a walk. You’ve been sitting here for too long.”

Figuring she wasn’t going to let it go, he nodded and pushed himself to a standing position. His knees were still a bit wobbly, and he used the arm of the chair to brace himself until he felt steady. CJ touched his shoulder gently and led him out of the room and down the hallway. It was quiet now; the chaos of a few hours prior had died down considerably. A few nurses walked past and glanced at them, but no one said anything. Sam was grateful for that. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with other people at the moment.

CJ didn’t try to ask him about it. Sam wasn’t sure what she knew about him and Josh. They hadn’t told her anything explicitly, but she was the press secretary. It was her job to pick up on the little things, to figure out the secrets before the press did. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she did know about them, but if she didn’t bring it up, he guessed that it was subtle enough that they could get away without questions. But if she still didn’t know, if it wasn’t obvious from the panic attack he had had earlier, he didn’t know what else would out them besides making out in front of the press corps. He let himself smile at the image.

“Can you promise me that once Josh is awake, you’ll go home and take a shower and get some sleep?” she asked.

He chewed his bottom lip. “Ceej…”

She sighed. “I figured it was worth a shot. You do have to sleep at some point, though. We’re going to need you the next couple of days. With the President and Josh out of commission, Leo is going to count on you.”

“I don’t know how to do Josh’s job.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to keep doing yours.”

“What about the press?”

“Let me deal with them. Don’t even think about it, got it? Just worry about yourself. You haven’t had an easy night, either.”

 _At least I didn’t get shot._ He didn’t need to say it out loud; she already knew.

“Why haven’t I been doing anything?” he asked.

“Sam, take a look at yourself. Do you think you’ve been in any state to do any governmental work?”

“I could’ve — I could’ve talked to people, written a statement. I could’ve done _something_.”

She stopped walking and pulled him to the side, out of the way of people coming and going. “Sam, you had a full-on panic attack. They had to _medicate_ you. You’ve been in and out for the past eight hours. You think I wanted to put you out in front of the press? Toby, Leo, and I are more than capable of handling ourselves for a while, got it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she said sternly. “Sam, I’m not putting you out there to answer questions or talk about any of this, not when they’re going to ask you about Josh.” He met her eyes, and she nodded knowingly.

“CJ, I’m—”

“Don’t say _sorry_.”

He nodded. His fingers twitched restlessly. “I need to do something. It’s been too long. I can’t stop thinking about him. I need a distraction.” He had thought that he could wait the entire time Josh was under, but it was going to drive him insane if he was allowed to sit and wait for six more hours. He trusted the doctors. He had to trust that they would get Josh back to him, safe and _alive_. He needed to believe that.

“I take it you don’t want to leave the hospital?” He shook his head. “I’ll get you a laptop or some paper, and you can start drafting statements. Sound good?”

“Yes. Thank you, Ceej.” He hugged her tightly. He felt a gentle kiss against his temple before they pulled away.

“He’s going to pull through. You know Josh. He’s not going to let something as small as a bullet stop him.”

He took a deep breath. “I know.”

They returned to the waiting room, and CJ left for a few minutes to find something for Sam to write on. She came back with a pad of paper and a pen. Sam propped his leg up against the arm of the chair to use as a firm surface and got to work. Writing helped distract him from thinking about Josh. He crafted a few different statements, thanking the American people for their support during the crisis and pledging to bring swift justice to the shooters. He wondered what the press was saying, what the public was thinking. He was grateful that he didn’t have CJ’s job, because he couldn’t imagine facing the press corps at a time like this.

Donna glanced over his shoulder a few times while he was writing.

“Do you wanna read what I have?” he asked. She nodded, and he passed the paper over to her. Her eyes scanned quickly, mouthing the words as she read them. It sent a sharp pain through his chest. Josh did the same thing when Sam asked him to look over his rough drafts. He wondered if Donna had picked it up from being around Josh so often, or if it was just a coincidence.

“This is really good, Sam.”

“I’ll have to polish the phrasing a bit, but it’s a start.” He shrugged.

“I’m going to go see if they have anything to eat. You want something?” She stood up.

“Coffee? And a bagel or something, if they have it.” Donna nodded and left, leaving Sam completely alone in the room. CJ and Leo had left again, and Toby had been gone for the last hour or so. 

The image of Josh popped back into his mind, and he forced it out, trying to focus back on his writing. Nothing came. He glanced back up at the clock. Five more hours, at the least. He ran a hand through his hair, not caring that he must have looked like a complete and total mess, shirt half unbuttoned and stained with dirty grayish streaks from hitting the ground. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t leave until he had seen Josh. It wasn’t fair that he could go home and shower and change while Josh was still in surgery. It felt wrong to leave, even if Josh would have no idea whether he was there or not. Sam was fully ready to spend the next week at the hospital, as long as it meant he got to stay with Josh.

Donna walked back in carrying two cups of coffee and a sad-looking muffin. He took the muffin and one of the cups, thanking her quietly. They sat in silence and drank the coffee. Sam picked halfheartedly at the muffin, eating it bit by bit. Donna took the paper and pen from him and started doodling absentmindedly on a fresh piece of paper, nonsense scribbles mixed in with little drawings of flowers and trees. Sam watched her, grateful for another distraction.

Once his coffee was gone, he must have managed, by some miracle, to fall asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, the clock had moved forward several hours and Leo was shaking his shoulder. Sam blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“He’s out,” Leo said. Sam leapt to his feet, suddenly wide awake. “The President and I already went in to see him.”

“Did he say anything?” he asked.

Leo smiled. “Yeah. He asked _what’s next?_ ” Sam shook his head. _Of course he did._ Leo added, “And he asked about you. Asked if you had been hurt. I told him you’ve been waiting fourteen hours to see him. So, your turn.” He patted Sam on the shoulder.

Donna took Sam’s hand, and they followed Leo to Josh’s room. As they approached the door, Sam’s chest tightened. He stopped a few feet away from it. Donna looked at him questioningly.

“You okay?”

“You, uh, you go in first. I need a minute.”

She didn’t protest, walking in alone. Sam paced back and forth in the hallway, mentally preparing himself to see Josh again, uncertain of what he should say, whether or not he should apologize. Could he pretend the fight had never even happened? Josh had almost died. Their argument seemed petty and childish now. Josh’s comment had still hurt, though, and badly. Sam didn’t want to think that Josh really thought those things about him, but he wasn’t sure. What if Josh was still upset? What if he didn’t even want to see him?

He overthought and overthought until Donna exited the room, closing the door carefully behind her. Sam could tell she had been crying, but she smiled at him.

“He fell asleep, but he’s okay. He was talking to me and everything.” Sam nodded and took a deep breath to brace himself. Donna squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “You’re both going to be fine, Sam. I promise.”

The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the steady beeping of the heart monitor. The blinds were closed, blocking out most of the sunlight and causing the room to be eerily dim. Sam’s eyes fell on Josh, and he almost started crying again. Josh looked peaceful, eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly. He was hooked up to several different machines, and there was an IV in his hand. He looked so _small_ , and Sam’s stomach clenched painfully. He moved towards the bed and sat down in the chair next to it, watching Josh as he slept.

He slowly reached out and carefully slid his hand underneath Josh’s, linking their fingers together. In an instant, there were warm tears falling down his cheeks, and he let out a quiet sob.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry, baby.” He lifted Josh’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. He closed his eyes and let himself cry, not caring anymore if anyone saw. This was Josh, his Josh, the love of his life. He had never been more certain of anything in his life than he was of the fact that he was meant to be with Josh for good. Josh would have never let him live it down if he knew what Sam was thinking, but he didn’t care. He was in love with Josh. He wanted so badly to turn back time, to go back to three days before and end the fight before it had even started. He wanted to go back to fourteen hours earlier and push Josh out of the way of the bullet, save him from all of this. He cried harder, tears falling onto Josh’s hand and the bed.

“Sam?” It was soft, weak, barely audible, but it was there, and he jerked his head up. Josh opened his eyes and looked down at Sam.

“Josh,” he choked out.

“Do you still hate me?” Josh asked hoarsely.

Sam let out another sob and shook his head vigorously. “No. No, no, no, _no_ , sweetheart, no. I could never. I never hated you. Ever. I couldn’t.”

“Would you stop being so dramatic—” He coughed weakly, but there was a tiny smile on his lips. “—and get up here?”

He stood up and leaned over the bed, cupping Josh’s cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb over his skin. Josh looked up at him, eyes dull and tired but still familiar, still _Josh_ , and Sam could feel himself falling into them, Josh tugging at the rope around his heart and pulling him in. Sam leaned in and kissed him tenderly, scared if he was too rough Josh would shatter into a million pieces.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmured.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Josh’s smile widened, and Sam’s heart did a somersault. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t — you know I didn’t mean it. I would never—”

“It’s okay,” Sam cut him off. “It’s okay. You’re okay. All that matters is that you’re okay.” He stared at Josh, still trying to catch up with the fact that this was real, and Josh was safe and alive and kissing him again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Josh covered Sam’s hand with his own. “I hope you’re into scars.”

Sam laughed through his tears and nodded, pressing another kiss to Josh’s lips. “You’re still beautiful no matter what.”

“You’re disgustingly cheesy, Sammy.”

His heart soared. Josh was back. Josh was going to make it. He would have gone through anything, sacrificed everything he had, as long as it meant that Josh made it out alive, and Josh was going to be okay. They were both going to be okay. “I’m so sorry I said I hated you. I don’t. I couldn’t.”

“I know I can be a pain in the ass.”

“You can be, but I don’t care. I love you, got it? I never would have said I hated you if I knew — if…” he trailed off, choking back another sob. “I don’t hate you, Josh.”

Josh nodded, turning his head and kissing Sam’s palm gently. “I don’t hate you either.” Sam smiled. Josh tried to stifle a yawn but failed.

“You should rest,” Sam whispered. Josh grabbed his wrist.

“Stay.”

“I’ll be right here.” He sat back down in the chair, still holding Josh’s hand, determined to never let go ever again. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love causing me and everyone who reads my fics lots and lots of pain :D also the title of this fic is from "catastrophize" by noah kahan (also on the samjosh playlist) ~ remember to follow my twitter @samuelseaborn and read my other fics if you feel like it


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